Hearing that Lucan wanted to compete with her in "magecraft", Morgan's first reaction was, of course, stunned disbelief—she was the eldest daughter of King Uther, the one who possessed the authority to rule over the British Isles as the "Lady of the Lake's Isle". More importantly, she was an extraordinarily gifted magus.
In Morgan's childhood memories, she had already mastered countless high-level spells that court magi considered impossibly difficult. She could even, in this age where the remnants of the Age of Gods had all but vanished, reproduce grand thaumaturgies of that mythic era using nothing but her own ability.
Even Merlin—the ever-smiling charlatan by her father's side, celebrated as a "sage"—was no match for her in this regard.
And now, someone actually wanted to compare magecraft with her?
"I admit you have some ability. But—when it comes to this, there's no way you could possibly defeat me."
The golden-haired maiden's voice was young yet proud as she addressed the boy before her.
Naturally, Lucan also knew what the girl in front of him was capable of. But wasn't this exactly what he wanted?
"How would you know if we don't try?"
"Then let's begin!"
Though she said so, Morgan couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation in her heart.
Never before had anyone stood against her in this field. In fact, no one had even dared.
For someone like this to suddenly appear… he was worth testing.
The blonde girl raised her hand, and in the pale white of her palm appeared a wooden wand:
"If you lose, don't cry, okay?"
Lucan had no staff. He had no need of one. As a magus, he never required such tools to aid his craft. The very moment Morgan gripped her staff, leaving not even an instant of delay, a radiance of magecraft surged forth from Lucan's body!
"Mm—!?"
The speed of his casting was so great that even Morgan was caught by surprise. Among the many systems of thaumaturgy she had inherited from both the Age of Man and the Age of Gods, there were certainly arts to hasten spellcasting—even those that allowed invocation in but an instant. The classic example was, of course, High-Speed Divine Words—the compulsory course of every God Age magus.
Those words simulated the tongue of the gods of myth, the voice of the World itself.
Yet no matter how fast, no matter how immediate, there was still a fraction of time required.
But the boy before her—seemed to need none at all.
Simultaneous. Synchronous.
Circuits whirred. True Ether expanded. The brilliance of magecraft reflected from Lucan's body spread across the garden in an instant, pressing toward Morgan. Intricate arrays of formulae streamed down from him like mercury, layering upon one another until they formed a tidal wave, surging straight toward her.
Not only Morgan—
Her entire surroundings were enveloped within it.
This was a supreme-level spell capable even of sealing off phenomena themselves.
—Formula: Locking Cage!
"Interesting."
At this instant, Morgan was truly intrigued.
Her golden hair whipped about her face, her dress flowing. The slender, graceful figure of the maiden tensed in earnest for the first time.
It wasn't only the genuine instant-casting of his magecraft that had piqued her curiosity.
It was also the way he assembled countless minor spells, stacking and fusing them into an ultimate-scale grand thaumaturgy—something neither the Age of Man nor the Age of Gods could achieve.
This mystery's quality was already approaching the divine realm itself.
Could this be Subutai's original creation?
Whether it was or not…
She had no choice—she had to take this seriously!
"Break."
Ancient, intricate syllables spilled from her full red lips. Like colossal gears roaring to life, the High-Speed Divine Words activated. The mana of sky and earth gathered to her, swirling into a vortex before shattering outward!
The magi of the Age of Gods had magic circuits within them too, but rarely used them—for they could draw directly from the Great Source, summoning the power of the world itself. Their spells were nearly always high thaumaturgies targeting fundamental concepts.
This "Break" shattered the very atmosphere, even the space that bore it!
Before that sundered air, the layers of Lucan's intricate formulae could only be held at bay.
Through the spreading cracks, Morgan raised her staff. At its tip burst forth a dazzling prismatic light.
Just one incantation had been enough for Morgan to understand Lucan's basic capabilities. Enough to show her this boy was no ordinary magus.
Therefore, there was no longer any need to test. Even though for most modern magi, casting a god-era spell via High-Speed Divine Words was a miracle, for her—it was nothing more than an appetizer.
The next second, the radiance at her staff's tip contracted, weaving twelve ancient runes into the air like a brush painting on empty canvas.
And then—
The twelve runes sketched the outline of a thorn-crowned tree.
This was—
"Reverse Garden!"
Mana from the world surged endlessly, no longer a vortex but a raging hurricane eye, twisting violently. Under the influence of these runes from the Age of Gods, the shattered air warped further. The plants in the garden all around began to grow in reverse, undoing themselves toward nothingness.
This was a forbidden spell that touched upon the domain of time itself, capable of rewinding existence to a state before its birth.
The pinnacle of thaumaturgy from even before the present era.
Worthy indeed of Morgan le Fay.
Worthy indeed of the Lady of the Isle!
Lucan's cage was stripped away piece by piece within the chaotic timeflow.
But the boy's lips curled into a smile.
"So that's it… this is your full power?"
What had been only a single cycle of Divine Spirit within him suddenly halted. The radiance of magecraft surrounding Lucan dimmed, as if dissipating.
Just as Morgan thought he was giving up—
The formless mystery surged outward, weaving from Lucan's body an endless and profound Triple Circle.
Morgan's blue eyes widened instantly.
Within Lucan, the Divine Body, Divine Spirit, and Divine Mind circulated in perfect synchronization, none dominating the others.
His pupils shone, fractal and infinite, as if filled with starlight—
"Not bad at all," he said.
And then: "Now, it's mine."
As his words fell, Morgan suddenly realized—her magecraft was being analyzed. No… it was being overwritten by an even higher mystery.
The roses that had been reversing their growth froze. Buds of golden flowers that should not exist bloomed instead.
At a thought, blossoms bloomed.
And within the fractured air, within the reversed garden, more and more cages were born.
This was the Locking Cage, fused with Morgan's Reverse Garden, then sublimated to a higher level—
A new, transcendent thaumaturgy born of new and old together.
Morgan's staff cracked beneath the strain.
BOOM!
Lucan stepped forward. His small figure seemed to magnify immeasurably, casting a deep shadow across the garden.
Was she… going to lose?
Though she was gifted beyond compare, Morgan le Fay was still young. Though she was extraordinary, she had yet to walk her destined path.
Even with the authority of the Isle, even with control over all mana of heaven and earth—even with a mystery worthy of the divine—she had not yet reached true completion.
Against Lucan's triple circulation, she was no match.
Yes… this was only natural—
But such "naturalness" was not something the proud, sensitive girl could accept!
Unwilling. Defiant.
The moment Lucan stepped forth, sure of his victory—Morgan suddenly raised her staff. She gathered all her mystery into a single point, condensing pure mana at its tip.
The earth trembled. The skies roared.
The full authority of the Isle was unleashed.
Infinite mana surged, bursting forth as a torrent from her staff's tip.
Yet even such overwhelming force dissipated before Lucan's barrier of True Ether.
And then—
Morgan's body followed.
With a thud, she crashed into him—not with power to harm, but enough to pin him.
"?"
Wait.
Wasn't this supposed to be a magecraft duel? Why close combat?
Lucan was completely caught off guard. Even more than when he had faced Attila.
Morgan's sudden rush pinned him beneath her.
In his daze—he had been "ambushed."
The girl's slender body pressed fully against his. Her softness, unique to maidens, was transmitted clearly through the thin fabric of her gown.
She straddled his waist, knees against his stomach, her staff discarded to the side. Both hands pressed firmly on his shoulders.
Her golden hair fell over his face, carrying the clear fragrance of a fae.
Her hurried breaths made her full chest rise and fall violently. The thin fabric could barely contain the softness, swaying dangerously before his eyes.
As her hips pressed down, he could even feel her body's extraordinary elasticity through his clothes.
"You've lost!"
Morgan panted as she declared, clearly exhausted from her sudden assault.
"It's my win!"
So then—
"Where did you get such speed, such strength?"
Lucan struggled, but realized he couldn't move. He was pinned tight.
It wasn't truly dangerous—he could easily repel her with a surge of True Ether. But by sheer physical force alone, he really was helpless.
Her sudden burst of speed and power—this wasn't something a magus should have, much less an ordinary girl!
And she hadn't had any chance to reinforce herself with magecraft in front of him.
So then…
What kind of "weak girl with double A in strength and speed" was this!?
Her physique might not match the great heroes of the Age of Gods, but it was far from ordinary!
"Stop changing the subject!"
Though she hadn't actually broken his defenses, Morgan still argued triumphantly: "In magecraft, winning is winning, losing is losing. What's with all the excuses?"
At the end of the day, this was just a scuffle between new acquaintances, not a real battle to the death.
At the end of the day, Lucan could never go all out here.
The triple circulation was for analyzing, for inscribing, for learning and simulation, not for unleashing his greatest combat strength.
And in this position, it was clear who was at a disadvantage… and it wasn't her.
Besides—
"Did you really win?"
At that moment, the brilliance of magecraft flared once more at point-blank range.
Morgan suddenly realized—she couldn't move.
This was—
"You're right. Winning is winning, losing is losing. So now—it's my win."
Lucan's robes surged.
From the start, the Locking Cage had always been there.
And now, the Morgan who had closed the distance was caught within it.